Gilded scars

ghts below still twinkled like distant stars, but for Richard, they were evidence of an empire he had built from ambition and calculated risk. He

hedge funds had outperformed global benchmarks for two decades. Under Richard's leadership, the firm weathered every downturn because he had tau

ng the desert sun. A private island resort in the Caribbean followed a honeymoon gift to none but a statement of power. Each property in

a startup developing ocean current turbines, and an AI lab teaching machines to compose symphonies. He skimmed each pitch, not for novelty, but for potential wo

studying satellite images of solar panels sprawling across desert plains. The pivot to renewables had not b

ichard seldom spoke first; he listened, absorbing every nuance, every hesitation, before delivering decisions with surgical precis

Scotch, its amber liquid catching the lamplight, and thought of the life he'd left behind. His marriage had crumbled beneath merger deadlines and jet-lagged apo

ines of his business life. Beside it hung a Vermeer portrait of a young woman reading, and nearby, a Rodin sculpture that seemed caught in an eternal struggle. He'd acqu

mask his stoicism for a moment a small smile at a bloom's burst of color, a sigh of relief as he coaxed a struggling bud back to life. To the outside worl

key he'd entrusted to her its spiral pattern worn smooth by her fingers. Richard set aside his garde

, his voice softer than in the boardroom. He swept a hand toward the rows of b

times," she confessed. "But I think th

a petal with his fingertip. "Power,"

tegy and sacrifice. He unsealed an unsigned letter resting on his mahogany desk the letter that held the truth about a past he'd l

d envelope. In a world where every asset had been measured and eve

uestion wasn't whether he could trust Emma with his secrets it was

ke the